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Talk:Role-Play 1: What Started As A Peaceful Day At LBP./@comment-24788145-20141027013700
"W-well, this is unsettling..." Quickman whispered to Crashman. Crashman didn't respond, he was too busy trying to find a place where he can sit in solitude until the ride was over. He began wandering, going down a hallway of doors, some with lights on, some without. He got to the end of the hall and found a door on the left. The lights were off and no noise was heard. Crashman used his one good drill to knock. He waited, and found no answer. The door had opened with a single push. 'Huh, odd,' he thought. He scanned the room, finding a bed (that wouldn't fit an average child even), a small TV, and a lot, and I mean a LOT, of Pokémon merch. He saw nothing wrong with the room. So, he deemed it worthy of staying in until the ride was over. He went into the back corner of the room to hide. Little did he know that he'd have a couple of beings hiding with him. "C-Cyndi..." moaned a rather high pitched voice. "...Bi.. Cele...bi..." moaned another voice. Upon further inspection, it looked to be a pair of dying Pokémon, a Cyndiquill and Celebi to be specific. The Cyndiquill was bleeding heavily, and had the word "HURRY" carved into its side. The Celebi was missing half of its body, but it was still alive. It's strange how such a fatal injury hadn't killed the poor thing. It made the caring side of Crashman sick to see such poorly treated beings. He tried to do what he could (which was very limiting, with one drill hand). "It's n-no use..." muttered a ghostly soft voice, startling Crashman, "I-I try to h-help them... But it n-never works... Th-they keep d-dying..." Crashman slowly turns his head and is appalled to see a character who looks like Trainer Gold from Pokémon, but he has no colour, eyes or limbs... A fluid, whose colour he couldn't tell from the dark, dripped from his eye sockets, down to his chin. Red dots replaced where his pupils would be. Where you would've seen confidence and the desire for adventure, he only saw pain, suffering and sadness. "My name is Gol-" the being glitched out severely, altering his words, as if he wasn't allowed to say his true name. "-Lost Silver..." Crashman, again, was at a loss for words. He didn't know how to respond to the limbless child. He would shake a hand, but Lost Silver had no limbs and Crash didn't have that particular drill/hand. He wanted to be kind and introduce himself, but his audio box wasn't working. He just sat there, frozen. "Y-you can stay here if you w-want... I d-don't mind..." Crashman found his voice again, and spoke in a hushed tone, "Thank you..." The two sat in silence. It wasn't an awkward silence, but a calming silence one that introverts strive for. Unlike BEN, who he could tell was trying to be creepy, Crashman could tell that Lost Silver didn't want to be like he is, but instead was forced into being that way. It was almost like himself, built to kill and destroy, when all he wants is equality between humans and robots, and Wily wasn't helping his case. "We aren't so different..." "H-huh?" "Oh! Uh... Nothing..."